


A switchblade smile & a bleeding heart

by songofproserpine



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Conditioning, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Non-Graphic Violence, Praise Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofproserpine/pseuds/songofproserpine
Summary: A prompt fic, requesting an inexperienced, soft-hearted Deputy discovering that she has a praise kink thanks to Jacob's conditioning (much to their mutual surprise).





	A switchblade smile & a bleeding heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, sinners! Not that I expect anyone to care, but Lana Del Rey's "Hot Hot Hot/Big Bad Wolf" is basically the theme song to this.
> 
> Also don't ask me how this conditioning stuff works; I always just assumed it was some weirdass eldritch shit (because the game has hints of the supernatural in it I M O). So just imagine that the power of lust and thirst is SO MIGHTY that it allows him to almost talk her off via... idk, psychic link or some shit, okay? Okay. Good. Onto the sinning.

Once upon a time, Julianna Luna considered herself a woman with a soft heart that she kept clear of trouble—and then Hope County happened. More specifically, the _Seeds_ happened, and she knew that she was being tested.

Maybe this test didn’t come from God directly, but it was most definitely inflicted on her by His superfans in the Project. And that was somehow worse.

As terrifying and unpredictable as Faith Seed was, it was the brothers—John and Jacob especially—that made Jules shudder. John seemed the most devoted to the cause—not that his faith made him any less of a brutal force of nature armed with an endless supply of wrath and knives. And if that was what he was like with the Father to balance him out, how bad was he in all the years _before_?

Once Jules could breathe again after John's baptism-disguised-as-a-drowning, she bid a hasty retreat up north to the mountains, hoping to find Eli and his militia.  _No sense fighting this battle alone._ It wasn’t the smartest decision she could have made. It ranked pretty high on her list of Uh Ohs and Goof Ups, especially since moving further north set her on the path of the eldest brother, Jacob—the soldier—the psychopath.

 _To be fair, this whole family’s pretty messed up in the head,_ Jules thought as she knocked out the last Peggie lurking around the F.A.N.G. Center. _All of them could use a few years of therapy._ She didn’t see how Jacob should be any worse than anyone else of his family.

But this was before she heard his raspy, low voice crooning out an almost sensual threat on the radio once the Center was cleared. This was before he called her a coward, accusing her of killing his brothers and sisters (total nonsense, that—she made _sure_ each Peggie was still breathing before she tied them up and sent word back to Eli). That was before Jacob whispered, as soft as silk and as tempting as sin, “My hunters are coming for you. There’s nowhere you can run.”

 _My hunters are coming for you. There’s nowhere you can run._ It wasn’t exactly a promise. More like a threat—but threats were just promises exchanged between enemies, and Jules knew on an instinctive, gut level that Jacob was not just a man of action, but also of his word. He would do as he said, exactly as he said.

 _Let him do his best,_ she thought, gathering up supplies from the Center and loading them into the back of her truck. _Or his worst. Whichever. I’ll deal with it as it comes_.

Jules knew she wore her heart on her sleeve, just as much as she had her badge pinned to her chest. And she took pride in this. Really, she did. So when she took one step outside of the Center’s gift shop—just a _step_ —and a Bliss arrow pricked her in the arm, she couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of cosmic joke. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and now it was pierced with an arrow.

 _Oh, good,_ she thought as she crumpled onto the concrete. Pain and blood was the last thing she felt or saw before a heavy shadow of darkness slipped over her, pulling her into sleep.

 

“The world is weak,” Jacob Seed said, pacing back and forth in front of the room. “Soft,” he added, lowering his voice to match the word. His pale gaze was brightened by the glaringly bright light that illuminated his face. Even from this distance Jules could see that his eyes were blue and sharp, like little chips of ice, and they darted to the back of the room where she sat strapped to a chair.

She frowned. Was that some kinda dig against her?

As Jacob continued on his grim little speech about the state of the world and its inevitable slide into destruction, Jules felt a little sliver of fear creep into her heart. Is this really how he saw the world—is this what he felt about humanity—his own soldiers, his family? Is this how he felt about _himself?_ That was so… sad. Sad hardly even covered it. It felt too small a word for how she felt.

Despite this, Jules’s bleeding-heart sympathy for this bleak worldview butted up against the reality of the situation. She was Jacob's prisoner, his hostage. She was most likely on her way to being his experiment too, if the rumors of what she’d heard about his training proved true.

On cue, almost as if he knew the direction of her thoughts, Jacob held out a little music box in front of Jules’ face and slowly began to wind it up. The delicate tinkling of the calliope and machinery inside sounded so fragile, so breakable, as if it could snap between his thick, scarred fingers if he weren’t careful.

But he _was_ careful. Jacob’s movements were casual and precise, with a sort of elegant ease that proved he had done this before. He pulled back the lid and held the music box close enough for Jules to see the whirring and spinning. Her head started to buzz like a hive of hornets, and her vision clouded with a mixture of Bliss and red, hazy pain, her eyes burning with tears.

Jules grit her teeth and leaned back in the Chair, twisting and wrenching against the rope, against the song, against the burning, blistering need in her to _hurt_ and _hunt_. “I... won't... hurt you,” she said through clenched teeth, her jaw aching from the force of trying to keep it shut.

The last thing she saw before another burst of red, devouring darkness closed over her eyes was Jacob Seed’s head tilted sideways, his small, pale eyes opened just a little wider than before.

 

Jules opened her eyes and knew at once she was in hell. Fire burned at her feet. Jules could taste ash and charred skin in her mouth, as if her tongue had been used as kindling. She could hear a clock winding up overhead, its gears groaning, its metronome flicking sideways, back and forth, back and forth. What better way to torment the eternally damned than to remind them that they had all the time in the world to suffer?

 _“Tick tock,”_ a familiar voice said, his tone precise, punctual.

_Jacob._

At first, Jules didn’t move. She didn’t even know if she could. But then the others in the room, her fellow hostages, stirred from their chairs and turned to her, moving with all the ruthless precision of automatons. She watched as they closed in, fists pulled back, teeth bared. She felt their fingers curl around her throat and squeeze the air and life out of her, choking, clawing—

And the world went black again.

 

And the clock spun its gears.

 

And Jules opened her eyes as if nothing had changed.

 _“Do it again,”_ Jacob snapped.

She scowled and stayed in her seat. “Do what?” she asked.

_“Cull the weak. Get moving.”_

Jules  made the first move this time, darting between the chairs and her opponents. It was _her_ fists that were pulled back and struck home now, _her_ knuckles crashing against their jaws,  _her_ strength sending them down to the floor.

 _“Good_ ,” Jacob said.  _"That's it."_

She shivered. She _felt_ good just hearing him say that. She kneed her second opponent in the face, eager to hear Jacob’s voice again. He went down quicker than the first.

 _“Excellent.”_ Jacob’s voice was different this time—still hushed, still low, still slithering in her ear as if he were pressed close to her back and leaning into her. He sounded almost… proud of her.

A funny sensation crept through her belly, sending little tremors of some… strange feeling down her nerves down all through her thighs. “How can you see me?”

_“Do as you’re told.”_

Jules didn’t move. She didn’t say anything, either.

And the clock kept ticking, back and forth, over and over.

 

 _"I won’t say it again, Deputy,”_ he said, his voice low, churning. _“You were doing so well before. Don’t let me down now.”_

 _Don’t let me down._ She wouldn’t, she couldn’t—she didn’t _want_ to.

With little other options left, she sprinted towards the door. The corridors were narrow, their geometry impossible. The ceiling slipped away in chunks as if being pulled into an abyss, and around every sharp corner lurked yet another person, another hostage, another opponent—another threat. Jules took them down as quickly as she had the first two. It wasn’t easy; some were heavily armed. She felt the bullets tear into her, could hear the rapid clatter of gunfire, but she felt no pain, no pain at all.

 _“Yes,”_ Jacob murmured, drawing out the word until it was almost a hiss. “ _You’re a warrior,”_ he said as she backhanded her next target, knocking them down in a heap. He wasn’t just proud of her—he was _pleased._

Jules stumbled at the sound of his voice. It rippled through her, making her thighs clench. She steadied her hand on the door frame, surprised to find that it was solid and sturdy, almost like it was real. She’d heard of Bliss driving people a little to close to the edge of reason, but those shifts always sounded so… warm, so peaceful, like slipping into a dream. But this? This was hard. This hurt. It was loud and brutal, like a nightmare with bared teeth—this was… well, it was like _war._ How she imagined war might be, anyway.

 _Is this what Jacob sees all the time?_ she wondered.  _Is this how he feels?_ Jules closed her eyes as another burst of tears threatened to spill from her.

_“Don’t stop now, Deputy. You were doing so well.”_

She shivered. Those words drove away the tears and the swell of grief that set its claws into her heart. She wondered if Jacob was doing this on purpose, rattling her like this, lavishing her with praise and short, simple commands just to see how she’d react. Whatever his motives were, his methods were definitely working.

Jules opened her eyes, raised her chin, and marched forward. The fire at her feet and the blood-red walls—like the chambers of a heart—were no longer things to fear. She wasn’t even afraid of the enemies she came up against, screaming, armed, ready to fire, to kill. She slammed her knuckles into their jaws, knocked their feet out from under them, and kept moving, fearless and furious without being lethal. She sent them flying with shoulder tackles and hip tosses, barely breaking a sweat.

And Jacob kept up his praise, his voice warm, his words insistent, like a gift meant for her and her alone. _“Not bad—a little sloppy that time, but I know you'll make it up to me. Ahh, see? There we go—that’s what I was lookin’ for. Well done; I knew you could do it.”_

As she drew near what she hoped was the end of this bizarre obstacle course, Jacob hummed approvingly. “ _Excellent—_ perfect _. That one barely touched you._ ”

 _I wish_ you’d _touch me,_ Jules bit her lip to keep from speaking.

 _“Just a little bit further now,”_ Jacob said, his tone shifting into a stern warning. _“I know you can do this._ Prove _to me you can do it.”_

Jules shivered and closed her eyes. _Obey._ She _wanted_ to, but she couldn’t. Her knees were weirdly weak and wobbly, her thighs so _tense_ ; it was as if Jacob’s voice were a weight flattened on her back, no different than if his hands were pushing her down, bending her forward… She could almost _feel_ his hands on her shoulders, holding her down—could _feel_ his knee slowly dipping between her legs and bending, moving up, up, until she had no other choice but to open for him.

Jules tilted her head back a little and _moaned_.

Jacob's laugh was a low, grumbling sound, more of a hum that barely left his throat. _“What’s the matter, Deputy? Distracted?”_

She cleared her throat. “A… a little bit. Yeah.”

 _“Well, well. Look at you.”_ His voice was all honey and smoke. It moved through her like an arrow to the heart. _“Didn’t know you were that type of gal.”_

“Yeah, well, neither did I.”

The clock continued its merciless progress, swinging back and forth, back and forth. Time didn’t seem to matter much—both the passage of it and the pressing need to obey it. Not now, not any longer. Jules would have been grateful for that, _should_ have been grateful, but her every thought was bending, whirling, hinging around the anticipation of hearing Jacob’s voice again.

_“Y’know, the longer you take to get through this, the longer you’ll have to wait to do something about it.”_

Jules’ heart thumped in her chest. Her throat tightened. Desire burned and bloomed through her, like wildfire and roses. Jacob burned her and made her bloom all at once, together. “About what?”

He laughed. _“You know what.”_

 “This is all a little new to me,” she explained, leaning against the wall. She slid down to the floor and tilted her head back, peering up at the impossibly red and twisted ceiling. “Kinda feel like I’m way in over my head.”

 _“That so? … Huh.”_ Jacob paused as if considering his next words carefully, weighing them in his head. _“I’ll tell you what. You be a good girl and do everything I say, and next time I bring you to me… we’ll work this out together.”_

Jules pressed her knuckles into her mouth. Was that a threat or a promise? Why did she want it to be _both_?

Jacob continued; she could _hear_ the smile in his voice. It was a wolfish grin, as sharp as a switchblade and yet somehow all warmth and heart. _“I said you had my full attention… now it’s up to you to keep me interested.”_ He let out a little breath, a rough, almost strangled sound, as if he were trying not to moan. _“Think you can do that?”_

Jules nodded. “Yes.”

_“Yes, what?”_

_“Yes… yes, sir.”_

_“Good girl,_ ” he hummed, making her whimper again. _“Now get up and get moving.”_

Jules was on her feet and sprinting towards the crumbling exit before she could blink or think. She didn’t doubt that he would make good on this promise—Jacob Seed was both a man of action and of his word. He would do just as he said he would and mean it—and for better or for worse, she’d be waiting for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop me a line on Tumblr @sisterfriedes. Thanks for reading!


End file.
